


Diagnosis Mulder

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-01-15
Updated: 2001-01-15
Packaged: 2018-11-21 00:13:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11346027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Skinner feels like shit. He goes looking for the culprit.





	Diagnosis Mulder

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Diagnosis Mulder by Blue Mohairbear

TITLE: DIAGNOSIS MULDER  
AUTHOR: Blue Mohairbear  
BETA: frogdoggie  
FANDOM: X-Files  
PAIRING: Skinner/Mulder  
RATING: NC-17  
FEEDBACK:   
WEBSITE: http://www.squidge.org/3wstop  
SERIES: no  
ARCHIVING: yes, anywhere   
DISCLAIMER: Chris *still* says no... and it's *Chris*tmas soon!  
SUMMARY: Skinner feels like shit. He goes looking for the culprit.  
WARNING: SILLINESS AHEAD!!!  
NOTES: This is for my whacky kid, Evil Child aka China E. She gave me a keyring with a rollerblading alien (!!!) and blamed her Krycek muse for it! (Krycek muse was right - I *do* love the keyring).

* * *

*********************  
DIAGNOSIS MULDER  
by Blue Mohairbear  
December, 2000  
********************* 

It was a dark and stormy night. A *shitty* dark and stormy night. Skinner lay awake in his king size bed, feeling as if someone had beaten him up the day before. He'd been waking up feeling like that for weeks now. 

Something was wrong with him. Terribly wrong. He had lost his appetite and hence lost weight. His big, hard, buff, muscular, god-like body had wilted. Of course, he could still do 250 push-ups in a row and still had his usual crowd of admirers applauding and cheering him in the gym. But until a few weeks ago, he had been able to do 400 push-ups without even having to breathe. The only reason his crowd of admirers was still there was because FBI employees usually weren't able to count above 114.

The people at the Bureau were beginning to give him sympathetic looks. Some of them were even stupid enough to ask him if something was wrong. Every time he growled "I'm fine, *thank* you!" at them, they had treated him like a dangerous mental case. Sure, Walter. Whatever you say. Just point that gun elsewhere, ok? Which meant he'd lost his bite.

Grousing and muttering, he got up and went to the bathroom. He couldn't even pee properly. His hard-on prevented it. That was one of the weird symptoms he'd developed over the last weeks, too. He was almost constantly horny these days and didn't know why. He decided to punish his hard-on for preventing him from peeing by not jerking off today and went into the shower.

But when he lifted his leg to wash his foot and saw that his toenails had curled up, he finally cracked. He decided to do something he normally did only once a year, and even then only under the most brutal and life-threatening pressure from his superiors: he made an appointment with a doctor.

******

"Um... well," said the cute young doctor, after having prodded his patient in every inch of that big, hard, buff, muscular, god-like body he could reach - and he had made sure to really reach *every* inch of it - and after having drawn samples of every bodily fluid Skinner knew and some he'd never heard of.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Skinner, but the results of the blood test, the urine test, the sperm test, the gastric fluid test, the cranial fluid test, the nasal fluid test, the bone marrow test, the earlobe test, the eyepressure test, the bellybutton test, the toenail test -- " 

"Doctor," Skinner interrupted and gave the cute young man one of his threatening hardass-AD stares (Patent Pending). "Just tell me what it is."

The cute young doctor swallowed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Skinner," he said solemnly. "You have... Mulder." 

Skinner clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"That bad," he said finally.

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Skinner. I'm sorry."

Skinner nodded.

"How long?"

"Until you'll go insane? Six months, maybe a year."

"Is it curable?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Skinner. There is, however, a possibility to delay it and to ease the symptoms - especially the perpetual hard-on that seems to bother you and which I'd gladly take care of again if you'd like..."

"What can I do?" Skinner snapped at him. The cute young doctor flinched.

"Well, Mr. Skinner, it's a pretty harsh treatment, and, in a way, it would mean jumping from the frying pan into the fire..."

It took Skinner a few moments, but then it dawned to him.

"You mean..."

"Exactly, Mr. Skinner. It's your only chance."

******

Skinner found Mulder in the pool of the FBI gym. As soon as the Agent swam by, Skinner reached down, grabbed Mulder's wet, dark hair and pulled him out of the pool. Ignoring Mulder's protests and the fascinated stares from the other Agents around them, he dragged his dripping prey up into his office.

"You," he said between clenched teeth, and pushed Mulder on the couch.

"It's all your fault. I've been feeling like shit for weeks, just because of you. All those stupid tests that stupid doctor made, and his cocksucking technique... well, it sucks. Damn you, Mulder, do you have to make everything so complicated?"

Mulder beamed at him, while he was busily dripping on the carpet. 

"Hey, that's great. You're adding to my guilt complex. I need that. I wouldn't be myself at all without my - hmpf."

Skinner shut him up with a hard kiss. Mulder tasted of chlorine and something that Skinner identified as Sammy's Hawaiian Pizza, with the good Italian bacon, but no mushrooms, and of coffee. And the best of it all was, Skinner realized, that he was beginning to feel better already.

Unceremoniously, he grabbed his Agent and shifted him around so that Mulder was hanging over the back of the couch, his red-speedo-clad ass wriggling in Skinner's direction. Oh, what a sight. Skinner felt gratitude towards the cute young doctor, even if the man's cocksucking technique sucked.

A quick pull and the wet speedo was down. Skinner opened his pants and took his big, hard, buff, god-like cock out.

Damn. He cursed inwardly. Where was the marzipan-flavored lube when you needed it?

"Under the cushions?" Mulder piped up.

Skinner fumbled around under the cushions and found the tube.

"How the hell did you know?" he asked warily.

"Krycek told me that's where you found it when you did him last time he was here," Mulder explained. "That's where you must have left it after you fucked Pendrell."

"Oh," Skinner said. Then Mulder wriggled his ass again. Skinner's brain shut down and he gladly let his big, hard, buff, god-like cock take command for a while.

Mulder made the most peculiar sounds, he yowled and meowed and moaned - and Skinner felt the strength return into his big, hard, buff, muscular, god-like body with every thrust into his Agent's hot, sexy, well-muscled swimmer's ass. The miracle healings of Lourdes were nothing compared to this cure the cute young doctor had recommended. Skinner made a mental note to send the cute young doctor a Christmas card this year.

Mulder shrieked and came all over the couch. Skinner frowned. The spunk, combined with the chlorinated water, wouldn't do the leather good. But he felt too great to really worry - let the cleaning staff take care of it. He was much too busy growling and coming and biting Mulder's neck while he spurted deep into that hot, sexy, well-muscled swimmer's ass.

He pulled Mulder down with him on the couch. The scent of sex mingled with those of chlorine, aftershave and marzipan. Skinner thought that it was the most sexy scent he'd ever smelled.

"I feel much better," he said, ruffling Mulder's damp hair. "But I'll need more treatments, probably for the rest of my life. I think I'm going to keep you. "

"Fine," Mulder said amiably. "I don't need much. Just a tv and my fish tank. And some take-out pizza now and then. Oh, before I forget -" and he prodded Skinner's big, hard, buff, muscular, god-like chest with his finger - "no more Kryceks, Pendrells or doctors with bad cocksucking techniques. Understood?"

"Fine," Skinner said amiably. And he pulled his now almost-dry Agent into his arms and held him tight.

***THE END***

*********************************************************  
     In the end there can be only one.  
     May it be Walter Skinner, the Assistant Director.  
     Find my Skinner-slash at: http://www.squidge.org/3wstop


End file.
